I finally got my Internet connection back tonight. I called once each the past two days and received nothing but grief from the cable company technical support hot-line. But that has not been a big issue, given that Aaron has been a handful. The first day he was mostly quiet, after he came home from camp he read his book. I left him to get the mail and came back to find him hiding a dirty magazine behind his book. I naturally took it, there was an argument, and it ended off with a chilling remark, “Well, fine. There’s more where that came from anyway.” With that he locked himself in his room and I could not even get him out for dinner.
The next morning, yesterday, I banged on the door and yelled through it for twenty minutes and he finally opened it, looking groggy. I silently pushed him along, knowing he had been up all night doing God knows what. I was an hour late for work because of him. What tops it all off is that after camp, he pestered me with the question “where do babies come from?” all afternoon. Wouldn’t he have learned that from the porno magazines? I dodged the question anyway.
Does not matter, though, because today took the cake. I had the gall to leave him alone while I picked something up from the office. When I came back the kitchen had already seen two disasters. The first disaster is spaghetti sauce and Parmesan cheese all over the counter top. The second is a pile of neatly thrown pukeon the tiled floor. My kitchen smells like a one-year-old’s Olive Garden birthday party. Unfortunately, he probably got foodborne illness from undercooked meatballs. And his mother says he can cook.
I just finished cleaning the mess, and I’m fed up with him
